


Lilac Skies

by imaginedfables



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Kate and Santanico continue their bestie routine, Seth is feeling offended, and fluff if i'm being honest, and oh yeah the geckos are there too, because Lari doesn't approve of angst, because girls for the freaking win, kate really hates working on Friday nights, sadness beard without the sadness part, soulmates!au, this is all snark okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedfables/pseuds/imaginedfables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If she’s seeing a freaking color, than that had to mean that this man – this man who was so completely different from anything she could have expected and was exactly the type of man her momma had warned her over and over again to steer-clear from – was the being that God or Fate or whoever the heck it was that decided their destinies, had created for her. </p><p>This stranger (who, let’s be fucking real here; the bro had all the makings of a glorified asshole) was her soulmate." </p><p>Or: Kate really hates working Friday nights.</p><p>Soulmates!AU where everyone sees in black & white until you meet your soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you can cut all the flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsttoain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsttoain/gifts).



> For my soul-sister, Lari, who's still waiting on me to get my shit together and practice my atrocious retention of the German language.

**…**

**The first color she sees is _red_. **

…

Kate _really fucking hates_ Friday nights at _La Diosa_.

It’s _not_ that it’s the busiest day of the week or that she has to clock in at work twenty minutes after her _second_ four-hour lecture of the day is over _or_ that she’s off at three in the morning and has a class five hours later on a _Saturday_ morning because Scott decided to be a _little shit_ and download music on her laptop while she was signing up for her Spring courses, causing her computer to freeze and crash along with her hopes and dreams of having a halfway-decent schedule for _once_ in her community college dreams.

And it’s _not_ that Carlos is finally back from his six-month sabbatical or whatever the hell you call it when a grown-ass man has to _literally_ leave the country to get over the fact that a girl he dated _four_ years ago (and was, coincidently, their freaking _boss_ , and – _Jesus Christ_ – what the hell was Kisa even _thinking_ when she decided to date that ticking sociopath, Kate would never understand) to finally go out on a freaking date with a decent guy.

That the apparently decent-bro turned out to be a _douche_ is completely beyond the point.

Anyways, it’s _not_ that he’s back and that in his so-called peace offering he’s decided to share the _wisdom_ he was _enlighten_ with during his days of *self-discovery (read: getting shit-faced at every dive bar in Baja) minutes after _casually_ reminding them all that he was _still_ a part-owner and was therefore demanding some of his _suggestions_ be implemented immediately.

Cue the ridiculous fucking _nametag_ pinned to her mandatory _sparkly_ blouse because _‘men always want what they can’t have, queridas, and you will shine brighter than the sun.’_

Apparently, no one had informed _Carlitos_ that sparkling brighter than the freaking sun didn’t particularly make a goddamned difference when eighty-seven percent of the population was _colorblind_ , and the other thirteen percent would have no interest in watching them.

At least Kisa had pressed her perfectly-pedicured, leather-boot wearing, foot down when the asshole tried to _demand_ they all wore _heels_ during their eight-hour shifts.

None of them would stand for _that_ particular brand of torture. 

But no.

That’s not the reason (as valid and perfectly acceptable as they were on their own) for her blatant and vicious hatred of Friday nights at the bar.

 _No_.

What she, Kate Fuller, despised most in this world filled with every type of asshole imaginable, was the Friday-night crowd that consisted of a _lovely_ spectrum of:

a) frat boys from U of H, who were all one game of Beer Pong away from having to be carried out and dragged to the hospital to get their stomachs pumped because nothing said “never-ending loyalty between brothers” like a batch of _alcohol poisoning_.

b) the straight-up _perverted_ and unapologetically _gross_ truck drivers, who were too fucking sleazy for even _Jacknife Jeds_ and/or preferred to drive the extra hour to this bar so they could ogle her and the other waitresses with their stupid _sparkly_ blouse.

c) the _turn-up_ crew, whom, along with the frat boys, had no qualms about the little things like _public intoxication_ , but felt deep in their hearts that because they’d coughed up the thirteen dollars for a Margarita or Mai Tai that Charlie liked to charge, were now entitled to treating everyone with a nametag like they were the dirt below their knock-off Louis Vuitton’s and Forever 21 toe-rings.

And Kate’s personal favorite, d) the prep-school lawyers who thought that just because they parked their Benz and BMWs between two spaces (what had Freddie called them? Douchebag #1 and #2), and flashed their Italian-leather wallets when they reached in for the hundred-dollar bill to pay for a shot of brandy, she was supposed to fall over herself and agree to a quickie in the bathroom while fawning over how absolutely _difficult_ and _exhausting_ their tiresome existence must be.

Of course, tonight _every single one of them_ had shown up for rollcall.

Kate swears to God that the next asshole who tries to grab her ass is going to get punched in the face.

Which, according to the leer that’s been plastered on this fucking bro’s face since he showed up half an hour ago with a fedora and his Will Shuester-wannabe tough-off the rack-vest, will very likely be this so-called _Chet_ that’s been making obnoxious comments about the _flavor_ of drinks he’s tasted around the _world_ and asking her to give him just a _taste_ , even though she’d made it ridiculously clear that she is so _not_ interested and is 2.3 seconds away from asking Charlie to throw him out on his ass. 

“ _Mami_ , I swear, one only has to look at you to know you taste like Cherry Pie.”

And, you know what, _enough is enough_.

She does _not_ get paid anywhere near enough to stand around here and serve this asshole with his worn out, Poison-quoting, seventies-take on sexual harassment and for _fuck’s sakes_ what the hell do they pay so much to the security guards for if they’re always too freaking busy brushing off the pawing and refusing drinks from the Turn-Up crew who’s so desperately trying to get laid.

She _still_ has puke on her _favorite_ pair of Converse from one of them, okay.

There are some things that she just _can’t_ forgive.

Kate scowls, gritting her teeth before forcing the most macabre smile she can pull-off on her face. “I think it’d be best if you finished your drink and left.”

There should be a rule that made it so no asshole was allowed anywhere near a bottle of booze.

“How about you tell me what’s it going to take for you to get on the menu?”

Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him.

In public, anyways.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gives a heavy sigh, placing her hand on top of his and smiling wide when her blunt nails dig into the skin of his palm and she can see him wincing in pain and doing his best not to cry out like a little bitch. “You can’t afford me.”

“ _Nena_ ,” he groans, refusing to back off and Kate can just _see_ the smartass comment he’s got foaming on the tip of his tongue because he’s giving her the _look_ , okay – you know, the same one that the kid who always snitched out the rest of the class would give when they would find out a secret and were about to run off to tell the teacher – and today will not be the day she’s proven wrong on her fucking _fantastic_ sense of intuition.

“You wouldn’t be the first girl who’s changed her mind after they saw my wallet.”

Look at that, winner-winner, chicken dinner.

“The lady said she’s not gonna be on the menu,” a voice cuts in, and Kate looks up to see that it belongs to a man straight out of a Calvin Klein commercial.

Everybody knows the type, okay?

Tall, Dark & Handsome, with tattoos that peek out from beneath the collar of his black three-piece and the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to him like a second skin. He’s got a jawline to die for that’s covered in what’s _obviously_ a perfectly-groomed five o’clock shadow and his dark hair is just long enough to merit a trim without looking out of place.

Everything about him screams _dangerous_.

“How about we leave that up to Cherry Pie?”

Dark & Broody moves closer, and Chet is on the floor before Kate can even deliver her next smartass comment.

And then he walks away, not even bothering to give her a glance over the shoulder as he steps outside the bar.

Kate’s stuck somewhere between gaping at his disappearing figure and side-eyeing the pathetic excuse for a man on the floor as his friends gather around him for support. One of the securities is finally able to shake off the half-naked girl that’d been atrociously flirting with him for the past twenty minutes, and he moves closer to escort the jerk who’s complaining about how he’s going to sue over his ruined nose (in her _honest_ opinion, it looked much better broken and bloody than it did before it took a hit point-blank) and the rest of his entourage out on Kisa’s orders.

The rest of the night is pretty straightforward: lots of broken Corona bottles they get to charge at double the price and drunk girls ordering Jello Shots with bottom-shelf vodka while fighting over assholes only to make up five minutes later in the bathrooms and take home guys far below their level.  

It’s twenty minutes before closing time when she sees Kisa step out of her office, stomping across the bar with her Naomi Campbell walk as her heels thunder in the mostly-emptied room with a scowl marring her perfect face. She signals for Charlie to follow her, and when Kate tries to do the same the older brunette softly shakes her head and tells her to stay inside.

“No, _querida_ ,” she brushes her off, and Kate has grown far too comfortable at the sight of her boss double-checking the bullet-count inside her revolver. “Tu sabes que los idiotas never use their common sense when it matters. Stay inside while we settle this.”

Because that’s who she is, underneath all her ethereal beauty: _ruthless_ and _brilliant_ , sure, but also kind and protective and _loyal_ to those she cared for above everything and everyone else.

(Actually, Kisa kind of thrives in her _boss bitch_ – _ice queen_ – _grovel-at-my-feet_ reputation.)  

 Which is why she can’t understand why she would have Charlie help the guy from earlier stumble onto an empty chair after she demanded the rest of their customers clear out for the night. Admittedly, he looks worse for wear, but none of them have ever been the type to take pity on the results of a drunken brawl or a pissing contest. Still, there’s a cut above his brow, the kind you get when the person you fought played dirty and wore rings that tore across the skin when they threw a punch, and his suit is ripped and dirty.

Kate sighs and grabs for the First-Aid kit underneath the counter.

“I’ll admit I didn’t see this coming when you punched that guy earlier tonight.”

She’s brushing a cotton swab loaded with peroxide across his brow, standing in front of him as he leans back on his chair (because it’s borderline ridiculous how much broader and taller than her he feels and she _refuses_ to play _nurse_ while on her tippy-toes. She’s got _some_ pride left, ya know?)

“You know, my Uncle Eddie used to say that you’re never in a fight with just one asshole.”

Fine. She’ll play along for a heartbeat.

It’s not like this is the most _random_ thing that has happened to her in her _life_ or anything like that.

You know, just your typical Friday-night shenanigans.

(She’s going to need a bottle of wine very, very soon.)

“And why’s that?”

He grins, and a dimple forms on his left cheek when he leans in conspiratorially – as if he’s letting her in on some big secret. “Because even assholes have friends.

Kate smiles, not being able to stop a laugh from bubbling in her lungs.

“Look, I get that some guys have that whole _macho_ -routine ingrained into their system,” she sighs, because _pull yourself together, Fuller; you will not start behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush just because some guy can make you laugh_. “But I hope you know that I can handle myself?”

And, goodness, he has such a typical _asshole_ _smirk_.

It must be patented or something.

“What? You’re telling me you’re not a Princess waiting for her Knight to come rescue her.”

If her fingernails scratch against his cut, it was a _total_ accident.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she teases, scoffing when he groans in pain and reaching for a band-aid and the tube of Neosporin. “Plus, some Knight _you’d_ be; I still don’t understand how a guy half your size could leave you like _this_. Let’s not forget it was Kisa who saved your ass tonight.”

The sight of complete _offense_ on his gorgeous face is priceless. “These are the thanks I get for trying to be a gentleman.”

“I have a very hard time believing you like to play the gentleman.”

She’s about to throw the pristine-white swab away, but there’s something that catches her attention. Because, _yes_ , it’s been ruined by the blood it’s stained with, but instead of the blob of black she’d been expecting, there is a burst of bright and vivid _Red_ that stands out against her fingertips and it takes her so much longer than it should to realize what’s happening because _no way._

No _freaking_ way.

People didn’t see _colors_ ; they saw in black and white and shades of gray until (let’s be honest here, the most likely scenario was a huge and unpredictable ‘ _if’_ ) they met the person they were supposed to be with for the rest of their lives.

Once you met them, the colors would slowly start to blend in until a _connection_ was formed and then the entire universe opened up to you, _vivid_ and _bold_ and _full_ and waiting for you to take it by storm.

If she’s seeing a freaking color, than that had to mean that this man – this man who was so _completely_ different from _anything_ she could have expected and was exactly the type of man her momma had _warned_ her over and over again to steer-clear from – was the being that God or Fate or whoever the heck it was that decided their destinies, had created _for_ her.

This stranger (who, let’s be fucking _real_ here; the bro had _all_ the makings of a glorified asshole) was her _soulmate_.

And he’s staring at her – no – he’s staring at her _face_ , scrunching his brows together in confusion and disbelief and narrowing his eyes as he locks them with her own and Kate can see the _exact_ moment that the same realization she’d come to seconds ago crashes against him because he freezes and breathes out a _“fuck, no.”_

She doesn’t have to wonder what he’s cursing for.

That’s the second that he _bolts_.

…


	2. but you cannot keep the spring from coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Larissa, I lied.  
> (besitos, besitos.)

It’s been six months.

Kate hasn’t seen or heard from him since that Friday night at La Diosa, when they both landed at the horrible realization that they’d somehow managed to find their fucking _soulmate_ and he’d bolted less than five seconds later.  

Apparently, neither one was very impressed with what they saw.

And, you know what, it’s not like she doesn’t have bigger and more important things to worry about than some asshole who couldn’t even give her the courtesy of telling her that he wasn’t interested in getting to know the person that God or Faith or whatever the heck Being decided it was a good idea to make it completely involuntary who they deemed to be your _perfect_ match.

It’s not like she didn’t have papers to write and family dinners to attend and it’s not like she didn’t have to exercise and quit French fries for an entire damn month so she could feel a little less ridiculous in the hideous bridesmaid dress that Jessica had picked out for them to wear to her wedding with Kyle. You know, the same Kyle that Kate had dated since she was in the eighth grade and who decided to dump her the week before Senior Prom because he just _couldn’t_ fight the allure of Jessica’s _golden_ hair any longer and had to follow _God’s will_.

_‘I hope you understand what this feels like someday, Kate.’_

The jerk probably jinxed her.

Anyways.

She’s fine.

She’s more than fucking fine.

She’s fantastic.

And.

And goddammit, she doesn’t even _know_ him.

But the colors are still coming, slowly sifting back into her world and Kate wishes she could enjoy them; wishes they were as bright and vibrant as she remembers them being when she was a child and everything in her world was perfect; wishes the brightest memory she’d made in the past six months was a field of sunflowers or a cloudy sunset or a bright blue ocean instead of his blood stains.

It’s been a long time since she’s been that blessed. 

…

She doesn’t much mind working Tuesdays.

The bar tends to be pretty empty for the most part – except for a steady stream of regulars that filter in and out throughout the evening – and Kate won’t deny that there’s a couple of them she’d grown rather fond of. They keep their hands and eyes to themselves and they always tip and it’s sort of nice to have them rambling on with stories about their families or their day rather than trying to find different ways to get in her pants. As weird as it may seem, she knows that a lot of the older regulars looked at her and the other girls like surrogate daughters. It may be a completely different world, but it doesn’t stop her from remembering what she used to love about helping out with her daddy’s fundraisers and volunteering in the community.

Their smiles and gratitude for her empathy is genuine, and it feels a lot like home.

Even if that home sometimes manifested itself as a grumpy old man with salt and pepper hair and enough stories to last her a lifetime.

“I tell ya, sweetheart, I must have raised the two biggest fucking dumbasses in the world,” Eddie groans, pouring another shot of whiskey down his throat and lifting his glass for her to give him a refill. “They’re always getting into all sorts of shit with the wrong people because they never learnt to keep their mouths shut.”

Kate laughs. She can’t help it.

“I’m sure they’re not so bad,” she tries to soothe him, but the disbelieving look he shoots her is enough to have her giggling all over again. “At least they like to stick around to spend some time with you.”

“They don’t just visit,” he grouses. “They completely take over my house. One of them is always falling asleep on my couch and the other one thinks I don’t notice that he’s been drinking my coffee while I’m out. Do you know how difficult it is to have some of those coffee beans imported into the US? It’s easier to get your hands on some damn Cubans than it is to have a decent cup of joe.”

“Aww. I’m sorry, Eddie,” she croons as he sits there, pouting like a child. “If it makes you feel better I’ll buy you a Starbucks tomorrow.”

He’s so offended it’s borderline glorious.

“You’re killing me, girl.”

“You’re depriving yourself from the wonderful world of Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino.”

“Just when I was about to adopt ya, and you go ahead and break my heart like that.”

“You know you’d still pick me over your nephews any day of the week,” Kate grins, flashing him her widest smile when he laughs at the ridiculous and easy banter they’ve fallen into since he started frequenting the bar a little less than half a year ago. “At least you’d never have to worry about me stealing your precious coffee beans from those chimpanzees.”

“I can’t decide whether to laugh or be offended by that,” he muses, but the amusement on his face gives his real feelings away.

She’s about to tell him to stop being such a crybaby when she’s distracted by the service door behind the bar being opened. Rafa – who Kisa hired to help with the bartending a couple of months ago -  steps out, carrying a crate of beer bottles and he takes a moment to smile at her, winking when he catches her smiling back and she can already feel the soft blush staining her cheeks.

Everything could be so easy.

Apparently, Eddie can see it, too.

“That boy’s been making heart eyes at you for the past three months.”

And, just like that, the moment is over.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kate answers, shrugging her shoulders and wiping off her palms on her apron as she turns her full attention back to the older man. “Nothing can ever happen there.”

“And why’s that?”

Kate pauses, thinks about lying to him. Thinks about hiding the truth from him just like she has from everyone else about that night six months ago. Thinks about telling him that she’s got a boyfriend back home or that Rafa isn’t her type or that she’s not interested in dating anyone at the time because she’s got school and work and other things to focus on.

But.

But she’s tired of lying to everyone. And of trying to figure out everything on her own. And of being confused and angry and so completely out of her comfort zone.

Because things weren’t great before Seth stepped into her life, but they were decent. She liked her life. She liked being independent and being allowed to make her own choices and she liked the freedom of being on her own and a part of her even liked the daydream of imagining that somewhere out in the world, there was a person who was everything she ever wanted and who would see her the same way. The little girl inside of her who grew up on fairytales had longed for the day that Prince Charming walked into her life, just the same as her daddy had for her momma.

_‘Baby Girl, finding your daddy – finding my soulmate – was what saved my life.’_

It didn’t take a genius to see that Seth wasn’t interested in doing any saving.

But, whatever.

She doesn’t need that, and if she ever did, Kate is more than capable of saving herself.

It still doesn’t mean she’s about to ruin a good guy’s chances of finding the person that was meant for him.

“Because,” Kate admits, taking a seat on the empty chair beside Eddie and pouring them both another shot. So what if she’s not twenty-one yet. She’s earned her right to it. “I know that he has black hair and brown eyes and tanned skin and he likes to wear that stupid green flannel shirt all the time, but when he looks at me all he sees are different shades of black and white and gray.”

Eddie’s staring at her – studies her face and her words and her tone – and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what she’s trying to tell him without so many words. He takes a deep breath, exhaling softly as he places his hand on top of hers and pats it in reassurance. His eyes – as blue and kind as always – meet hers, and she knows he understands.

“You done gone and found yourself your soulmate already.”

Kate nods. “Something like that.”

The compassion in his words feels like a blessing.

“Guessing you ain’t very happy with what you found, either.”

“He kind of ran out on me before I could make up my mind.”

For the record, Kate hates how pathetic her goddamned voice sounds.

“Fucking idiot,” Eddie grumbles, and the anger in his tone should surprise her, but all it really does is make her heart swell in gratitude. “He’ll come crawling back someday soon, sweetheart. Mark my words.”

Kate shifts uncomfortably.

“Actually,” she opposes. “Lets hope that he doesn’t.”

…

She’s just about done for the night when it happens.

Rafa is out back, locking up all the doors and double checking that the windows are shut tight before they both can leave. The rest of the staff left a few minutes ago and Kate just has to place the day’s earnings in Kisa’s safe before she can call it a night, too. Five more minutes and she’d be free to go home and lay down on her bed and sleep in until tomorrow afternoon.

Except, one of the cooks must have left their TV on in the kitchen, because she can hear the Breaking News intro loudly ruining the silence she’d grown so comfortable in. Kate walks into the room to shut off the damn thing and that’s when she sees it.

_“Seth and Richard Gecko – the infamous Gecko Brothers – found dead in a fiery crash.”_

And the world stops.

Because on that screen is a mug shot of the same man she’d met for a couple of minutes and who’d changed her life so violently she was still reeling from it.

That same man who was meant to be her soulmate and who was supposed to help her bring all the colors back into her world was found burning somewhere near Abilene with the brother she didn’t even know he had.

Dammit, she hadn’t even known his _last name_.

He’d been this stranger who just happened to walk into her workplace and who she’d spent the past six months desperately wishing she had never met. She’d cursed him for being a coward and she’d hated herself for letting him matter to her and now there was nothing. No fairytale endings or epic love story or even reluctant friendship.

The person that the world created for her was gone, and she would live out the rest of her life knowing that no else would complete her the way that he was meant to. Everyone had heard the stories of what happened when soulmates lost each other.

The partner that lived was lost.

They were paralyzed.

They withered away into nothing but sadness.

It was the cruelest side of Fate to lose your soulmate; to be given the chance to experience everything only for it to turn into nothing with the flick of wrist.

And she can’t help it.

She starts crying.

Fierce, vicious sobs that shake her whole body and have her lungs trembling and knees weak as she falls to the floor and breaks down in mourning over a man she will never see again and who she never even got the chance to really meet.

She can’t control herself, and she wasn’t even in love with it.

She doesn’t know what she would have done if she had been.

Her head is bowed and her eyes are closed and her tears won’t stop falling and she prays that Rafa would hurry up and come looking for her soon because she doesn’t think she’ll actually be able to get up and go home on her own any time soon and later she’ll know that that’s why she misses it.

Misses the crash outside and misses the slamming doors and blames the incoming storm for all the unusual noises instead of trusting her instincts when they tell her that something is going on outside the doors. She is frozen in place and her heart is hurting and she doesn’t look up when the sound of soft steps start hurrying towards her and it’s not until rough hands she doesn’t recognize are gently cupping her face that she looks up to find herself staring at the worried eyes of a man who is supposed to be dead.

“Kate,” he calls out to her. “Can you hear me?”

“What?” she whispers, before crying out, “but you’re dead.”

“I’m still here, sweetheart.” He tries to reassure her, brushing her hair away from her face and not letting go of her. “I can explain everything.”

And then every sense comes rushing back in, and it takes her brain six more seconds to realize that the man in front of her is not a ghost or hallucination or a product of her mourning state, but Seth Gecko in the living flesh.

And, oh.

Oh.

“Oh, you fucking asshole!”

If she punches him straight in the face, well, Kate is blaming the adrenaline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! This story still has a few more chapters left in it!  
> I hope that everyone liked it!


End file.
